


A Potato Fic

by Larsini



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky is a little shit, Bucky is a potato, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Nightmares, Probably ooc, Sorry Not Sorry, Steve can't deal with it, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, alive potato: do not eat, beautiful fanart, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larsini/pseuds/Larsini
Summary: This is just a little piece of trash I wrote for someone who is just insane as I am - and to get Potato!Bucky out of my head, because NO. No beta, no revision, no nothing, I don't care - enjoy & always eat your veggies.





	A Potato Fic

Steve jerked from his sleep. His heart was racing, and while he drew in a long, greedy breath of air he realized he was drenched in sweat, his covers rumpled, his pillow heaven knew where. His mouth was too dry, his throat too sore, and there were tears stinging in his eyes, a sensation he hadn't felt for months. Almost panicked he spun around, tangled in the sheets – and froze.

Bucky was lying next to him, with that grumpy little pout and the faint crease between his brows, certain indicators that he was fast asleep and not suspecting a thing. Steve faintly thought that it made no sense, that Bucky should be the first to startle from his sleep if anything was out of the order, but apparently the brunet hadn't gotten that memo. He lay curled up on his side, bundled up to his neck and happily snoring away.

Steve felt a panicked sob claw its way up his throat, and before he could think about it he had gripped the man's covers and jerked them away.

Bucky yelped and fell out of bed.

''What the hell, Steve!'' he cried, his voice slurred and hoarse from his sleep, and Steve darted over the mattress and stared down at his sprawled out partner. The assassin shook his head and glared up at him, but the blond barely saw it. He was counting limbs. Two legs sticking out of tight black briefs, whole, healthy and clearly attached to the man's body. A functional right arm in flesh and blood... titanium alloys replacing the left, but three out of four wasn't too bad.

While Bucky still glowered, displeased to be so unceremoniously ripped from his slumber, Steve broke into a ragged sob, almost choking on relief.

''Oh God, Bucky, oh, thank God...''

''Steve?'' The brunet scowled, realizing something was wrong, and he tried to push himself up. ''What – whoa!'' He slammed back on the floor, 220lbs of sobbing super soldier on his chest, and bumped his head on the floor.

''Oh God, Bucky...''

''Stevie, what's wrong? What happened, what – talk to me!'' He cradled his friend against his chest, tried to get a look at his face, but Steve didn't react, just lay sprawled out on top of him, clutching the brunet's wrist and pressing their thighs against each other as if he meant to melt into the man.

Bucky usually wasn't the prudish kind, at least not when it came to Steve, but this level of sudden contact was suspicious enough to have him sober up immediately.

''Stevie,'' he whispered into blond's hair, still wet with sweat, ''what happened? Did you have a nightmare?''

Steve only groaned, an almost primal whine breaking from his throat, and clutched his partner a little tighter. Bucky tried to run a hand over his captain's clammy back, wondering what the hell had happened, and held on to him while Steve sobbed against his chest. It was obvious the man wasn't quite himself right now. Fair enough – Bucky had suffered through enough nightmares himself to give him his time. Held him close while Steve choked out the toxic remnants of whatever had haunted him and soothingly hummed into his ear.

''What happened?'' he asked again when the blond's shaking finally subsided, and Steve sniffled and buried his face against Bucky's chest.

''Bad dream.'' It sounded muffled and pathetic, and against his will Bucky had to grin.

''You don't say. What was it, hm? The war?'' He rubbed the man's neck. ''C'mon, tell me. You'll feel better.''

''You.'' Steve drew a deep, ragged breath, then raised his head and stared at him with tears in his eyes. ''You,'' he whispered again, ''and you were... you were...'' He shook his head, bit down on his lips until he drew blood.

Bucky scowled.

''Steve, tell me. Say it. What was it?''

''You were a potato.''

For a moment there was silence. Then the sergeant blinked.

''What?''

''A potato, Bucky, a fucking potato!'' Steve almost cried into his face, and the rare use of a swear word sufficed to tell the brunet that it had truly gotten to the man.

''A... potato,'' he repeated softly, trying hard not to be amused. ''What kind of potato?''

''I don't know.'' Steve sounded absolutely miserable. His eyes were puffy, his cheeks gleaming with tears, and he once more let his head fall against his lover's neck. ''Waxy, I think.''

''Oh. Wow.'' Bucky lowered his own head on the floor and stared at the ceiling, thoughtfully stroking the man. ''Did you eat me?''

''Buck, it's not funny!''

''I know, I know, I'm just... trying to get a feeling for it. I'm taking it serious, promise.'' He looked down and saw Steve peering up at him, looking so pathetic that he wrapped his arms a little tighter around the man. The hard floor was getting uncomfortable, there was still adrenaline racing through his veins from being ripped out of his sleep and he wanted to get Steve back into bed – or the shower – but at least the super soldier's body heat sufficed to keep him warm.

''A potato...'' he murmured thoughtfully. Steve swallowed.

''I knew it was you, but you weren't... you didn't talk to me anymore.''

''Potatoes can't talk, Steve,'' he said softly, and the blond let out a wail.

''I _know_!'' Apparently that was the entire point. Slowly Bucky began to catch on, and while he thoughtfully ran his fingers through Steve's hair he shifted a little and wrapped his legs around Steve's waist. Reminding him that he was _not_ a potato, that he had limbs and reacted to him.

It seemed to help a little.

''That's the last time we'll let Sam cook,'' Bucky decided after a while. ''I knew there was something wrong with the casserole.''

''Oh _God_.'' Steve shook his head, huffed out against Bucky's shoulder. ''What if someone had... you... and then...''

''Had sliced me, diced me and made me into a casserole?'' He knew it was a bad idea, he knew he shouldn't have said it, but he couldn't stop himself, and the next moment Steve whined again and dug his fingers into Bucky's arm.

''Don't!''

''Okay, okay, sorry... hey, pal, look at me.'' He untangled himself from the blond's grip and shoved two fingers under his chin. ''Look at me. Not a potato.''

''Yeah...'' Steve inhaled deeply, then sniffed again. He tried to smile and failed miserably. ''I know.''

''And I won't be one anytime soon. Doesn't sound all that interesting.''

''You're an idiot.'' Steve's panic seemed to fade, and he shook his head and scowled. ''Why would I dream that?''

''I don't know.'' Bucky shrugged as much as was possible with so much weight on top of him. ''But, you know, if this is some Freudian thing... if you want to eat me...''

''Jerk.'' Steve punched him in the shoulder, but he had to laugh. Bucky grinned.

''You know you want to, Steve. I'm healthy. I got a lot of carbs.'' He moved his head a little to bring his lips to his lover's ear. ''And I taste so fucking good, you'll want to serve me with baby carrots and a steak and a nice -''

''Jerk,'' Steve panted again, but this time his shoulders weren't shaking from helpless sobs. The tears were still wet on his skin, his lip was bleeding and his skin was only slowly burning through the cool layer of sweat, but he was chuckling.

''Admit it, you want to.''

''Don't mind if I do.'' The blond huddled closer, pressed a kiss to the brunet's bristly jaw and sighed. ''Don't ever be a potato, Buck. I couldn't stomach that.''

''Something lighter then? Maybe a -''

''Buck!'' They stared at each other, and Bucky smiled. Gave the blond a kiss, never mind the blood, sweat and tears, and reassuringly rubbed his shoulder.

''No potato, not ever. Promise. Now get off of me, I can't breathe.'' Steve obeyed, albeit under protest, and cast a sad look at the ruffled, clammy sheets. Before he could say anything Bucky had rolled out from under him, gotten to his feet and pulled him up.

''C'mon, pal, you need a shower. I'll even come along, how's that sound?'' He grinned, and while Steve's eyes narrowed, scenting the next toe over the line, the brunet gave him a suggestive wink. ''Peel me out of my clothes, throw me into hot water and eat me up, babe... I know you want to.''

The fist to the jaw was more than worth it.

   


The most wonderful Muss, who sadly doesn't seem to have an Ao3 account, gifted me with this truly beautiful piece of fanart. I am so honored and in awe to have inspired such a masterpiece. Muss, this fic is for you. :* 

**Author's Note:**

> YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING  
> I never expected this little pile of garbage to receive as much positive feedback as it did - THANK YOU.  
> Seriously, you guys rock. <3
> 
> Shoutout to Muss, who made this possible through terrible jokes and a spoonful of trauma.


End file.
